


Bar Room Brawl

by Demon_Apostle



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, How is bar fight not a tag?, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot, Punk Hanzo Shimada, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 03:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demon_Apostle/pseuds/Demon_Apostle
Summary: A simple date night takes a drastic turn once alcohol and strangers get involved.





	Bar Room Brawl

**Author's Note:**

> *sees how long I haven't posted something*  
> *proceeds to curse my very existence while furiously typing*  
> Final projects are a bitch, let me tell ya. I feel like the life has been sucked from me.
> 
> I don't own anything.

In Hanzo's and McCree's defense, they did absolutely nothing wrong. Absolutely  _ nothing. _

 

Yet, somehow, they managed to end up in a pretty nasty bar fight that resulted in a few bruises, a split lip for McCree, a torn shirt for Hanzo, and an angry bartender who insisted someone pay for the damage. Luckily, all the two men had to do was toss a couple wallets belonging to their attackers his way and the whole thing was forgotten.

 

Until Winston received word of their little brawl and demanded an explanation. McCree was more than happy to provide one while emphasizing the fact that neither of them are to blame whatsoever. Hanzo just nods his agreement as he remembers the events of the night with a twisted fondness.

 

It was considered date night for the couple of seven months, a little tradition they had set up after their first month of dating. They had both agreed that time was a precious thing for people in their line of work and that whenever both had leave at the same time, a day would be set aside for a date. That particular night would put Hanzo and McCree at one of the few bars in Gibraltar, drinking with each other and generally having a good time. Only a few patrons had spared the two a glance when they first walked in, but it didn't go beyond a bit of ogling and maybe a confused look or two. It was understandable since while lacking his serape, gun, and armor, McCree still had his hat and boots, spurs jingling with every step. Then there was Hanzo who opted for a bit more glam despite the piercings and shaved head, his high collared jacket and baggy pants being traded in for black slacks and a gray Henley. His combat boots were still present, the archer wanting comfort rather than style. McCree thought he looked amazing either way and was excited to spend some quality time with his boyfriend.

 

In the beginning, everything was going well. No one bothered the couple other than the bartender who only spoke to them because of his job and it seemed as though the date would end with the only damage being to the mens’ motor functions. Unfortunately, all Hanzo and McCree ended up with was a light buzz before a man who was clearly too drunk to have any common sense walked (more like staggered) to where they were situated at the bar. The stranger wasn't very bulky, but he did have a good couple inches on McCree in the height department by the looks of things. He leaned heavily against a wooden post, possibly trying to look like he was still aware of himself as he glared at both agents. Neither were quite sure what he was planning, and judging by the sloppy grins a group of men sitting at a table were wearing, he had been goaded into bothering them. The two men were content to ignore him if all he was going to do was glare, but then he finally started rambling in drunken Spanish.

 

_ “Who d’ya think you are? Walking in here with… with a hat and boots! This isn't the wild West. Get your geo… geo… geography right!”  _ Hanzo looked to his partner for clarification, but McCree just rolled his eyes.

 

“Mindless ramblin’ of the drunk, sweetheart. Pay him no mind.” And the archer would have had the man not kept going, this time aiming his would-be insults at Hanzo.

 

_ “And who wears a shirt that tight?! You're not that great! Just ‘cause you have muscles you think you're so bad. You just look like a… a punk with that stupid haircut!”  _ At this point, McCree was starting to get a little irritated, especially since the drunk stranger was now talking about his boyfriend. However, he wasn't about to start a scene, so he turned to the man and spoke as politely as he could in returning Spanish.

 

_ “Sir, if you could please calm down and go back to you're seat, that would be appreciated.”  _ But it didn't seem like the stranger was willing to listen and just continued rambling, now drawing the attention of the bartender who was starting to look concerned. Hanzo was ready to call it a night and finish his date with McCree back at the watchpoint, but that's when things finally got out of hand. The cowboy had once again tried to get the man to leave them alone, but he was met with an unprovoked fist to the jaw for his troubles. 

 

At that moment, everything almost went in slow motion as McCree felt his lip split from the punch, his body jerking towards Hanzo from the force. Thankfully, the gunslinger’s taken worse blows to the face before and using his new position to gain momentum, he socks the drunk in his own jaw with his flesh hand, trying not to seriously injure the poor sap too badly. The single punch manages to knock out the drunkard, but that's far from the end of things once his buddies at the table decide they want revenge.

 

What happens next is a good old fashioned bar brawl, Hanzo and McCree against four other men with more alcohol in their systems. A couple of the men are bigger in mass but only one reaches the cowboy's height while the other is a little shorter than Hanzo. Another is scrawny, a little taller than the elder Shimada while the last guy matches him in height and is somewhat less muscular. The fight is nothing like what what the Overwatch agents usually experience in that their enemies’ attacks are uncoordinated and not very strong.

 

Unfortunately, all the alcohol seems to be dulling the four mens’ sense of pain since they continue to get up after Hanzo and McCree knock them down. It also might have to do with the fact that both men are holding back since this isn't a life-threatening fight and their enemies aren't part of any terrorist organization trying to kill them. Whatever the case, it takes longer for the fight to end than it normally would and McCree and Hanzo stand victorious over the poor fools. The archer looks at the tear in his shirt, the stitching having been ripped apart along the connection between the left sleeve and the rest of the clothing. Hanzo scowls down at the muscled guy who did it by grabbing him while he had his hands full with the scrawny man who actually put up more of a fight than anyone expected from him.

 

And it's only when the bartender speaks does the couple notice how much damage has been done. There's a barstool that's been practically broken in half after one of the men tried to use it as a weapon against McCree, the supports having splintered and cracked once it made contact with his prosthetic. Another is missing a leg, courtesy of one of the big men losing his balance after Hanzo delivered a hefty punch to his sternum. Then there's the table the four men were sitting at, lying in pieces when the assassin sent the guy with muscles sailing onto it after blocking one of his punches.

 

The bartender is having a fit because of it all, demanding someone pay for what was broken and glaring at the two men as if expecting them to cough up the money right then and there. McCree takes it upon himself to do the next best thing and rifles through the pockets of their assailants before depositing all five wallets on the counter. The bartender raises a brow, but accepts the payment while silently telling Hanzo and McCree to leave the building by staring daggers at them. The agents do just that, not bothering to argue that they weren't at fault or spare anyone else a second glance. They're maybe a few feet from the bar when both men burst into laughter, complimenting each other on the fight while McCree jokes about the bartender looking like he wanted to steal their souls.

 

Unfortunately, their good moods don't last the entire night because as previously stated, Winston was far from pleased about the whole fiasco. Of course, the one thing neither McCree nor Hanzo tell the scientist is that they'd do the whole thing over again if it meant spending time with each other.

**Author's Note:**

> This was honestly inspired by those videos of drunk guys picking fights only to get knocked out by a single punch. Something about them is just so gratifying.


End file.
